


Triple Trigger Truth

by gyunikum



Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Vampire, M/M, OT3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-16 03:39:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11245551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gyunikum/pseuds/gyunikum
Summary: Three statements between three people that become true, spanning three different worlds, and plus one.





	Triple Trigger Truth

**Author's Note:**

> so in here we have vampires, space ships, cyborgs, and idols.

First Statement: Taekwoon, Wonshik and Sanghyuk loved each other despite being on the opposite sides.

False.

They were members of three opposing vampire clans, and they hated each other. Their clans were at a vicious, hundred-year-long war; Taekwoon’s clan wanted more power and dominance over all the other clans, more territory and more authority. Sanghyuk’s clan wanted more resources for its bleeding pits, and to have monopoly over the blood supply routes. Wonshik’s clan just wanted to survive the war going on for generations.

It was by chance that the three crossed paths, sent on a secret mission by their leaders to retrieve an ancient relic that would hopefully put an end to the baseless massacre, as a new enemy posed much greater danger to their species— lycans.

Hailing from a warrior clan, Taekwoon easily overpowered the usually resourceful Sanghyuk, and not even Wonshik’s seer powers, inherited exclusively in his clan, were a match to Taekwoon’s raw might.

“Which one of you took the artifact?” Taekwoon growled. Sanghyuk worked fast on the restraints tied around his wrists with his claws, even as Taekwoon pressed the mouth of the gun to his forehead. Next to him, kneeling just like Sanghyuk on the moist floor of the cavern, Wonshik remained motionless, eyes closed.

“We don’t even know what it looks like,” Wonshik said quietly as he slowly opened his eyes and lifted his head. He stared into the maw of the weapon, not blinking even when Taekwoon cocked the gun in his face. “Or what the artifact is— you got here first.”

“It wasn’t here,” Taekwoon grumbled, narrowing his eyes. There was a naturally formed pedestal from the same black obsidian the whole cave was carved out of, with a beam of blue sunlight illuminating the empty spot upon which the artifact was supposed to lay. “Use your seeking power and find out if you can see where it is or something.”

“My power doesn’t work like that,” Wonshik sighed, while Sanghyuk snorted.

“Shut up,” Taekwoon barked, showing his larger-than-normal fangs, however, instead of shrinking back, Sanghyuk waited a beat, pulling his lips into a victorious grin, and pounced on Taekwoon, his restraints coming loose.

The gun went off before it clattered on the floor, and one of them accidentally kicked it into the bottomless pool that expanded right in front of the pedestal, with a dull splash that distracted Taekwoon just enough for Sanghyuk to dig his blood red claws into the crook of Taekwoon’s neck.

Taekwoon’s scream tipped Wonshik out of his trance as he tried to follow Taekwoon’s suggestion – it wasn’t a bad idea if he was honest with himself – but he managed to catch a scent.

“Lycans!” Wonshik shouted, his word and voice laden with thick indication.

Sanghyuk rose to his knees as he sat on top of Taekwoon, and pulled Taekwoon’s head out of the water. Taekwoon gasped, blinking towards Wonshik’s direction, confused.

Wonshik turned his head to the side as if to hear better in the dead silence.

“They are still here—”

And as if on cue, the first beast jumped out from within the shadows, followed by three others, growling like thunders, the cavern’s echoes multiplying them into a battalion three vampires could never defeat.

 

“Ouch— go easy,” Sanghyuk hissed at Taekwoon who glanced up at him for a moment before continuing to drink from his wrist. Taekwoon didn’t let a drop go to waste, licking around Sanghyuk’s wrist when the blood escaped his lips.

“Are you sure he’ll be okay with diluted blood?” Wonshik asked quietly as he bit around the straw of his second blood bag. His silver hair, characteristic to his clan, was matted with his and dead lycan blood. It didn’t show as much in Sanghyuk’s crimson hair, but it still glued it into thick wisps— perhaps, Taekwoon was the worst off in that sense, because along with his clothes ripped into tiny pieces, his body was a canvas of deep wounds inflicted by lycan fangs and claws. “He took the brunt of the attack—”

“His body would go into shock if he drank too much pure blood,” Sanghyuk explained. “And my clan’s blood is the closest you can get to human blood, anyway. I never drank diluted blood in my life.”

Wonshik grimaced, knowing the other was right— plus, he wasn’t planning on giving up his bag of blood for Taekwoon, no matter how many lycans the other vampire pulled off Wonshik before the beasts could tear into his weak body. Not yet, at least, but as he examined Taekwoon, kneeling on the floor of the safe-house half naked, body covered in wounds that were already regenerating— he’d never seen a vampire so vulnerable.

He caught Sanghyuk as the other vampire lifted his hand and hovered it just above Taekwoon’s head before pulling his fingers into a fist, and let it fall to his side on the couch.

“We can’t continue fighting each other,” Wonshik mumbled, looking at his empty blood bag— he couldn’t drink vampire blood unless he wanted his powers to be fogged— they couldn’t allow it to happen, not right now, when they had barely managed to get away from the cavern and the lycans, and escape to this safe-house in the nearest human settlement, a little town.

Sanghyuk hummed as he nodded. “The lycans have gotten too powerful while we were busy fighting each other.”

“We—” Taekwoon croaked, pushing Sanghyuk’s arm away from his face. His lips and whole chin was painted deep red, a feral sight. “—have to warn our clans.”

They looked between each other, agreeing.

They hated each other, because that was the only truth they had been fed all their lives, but with a common enemy on the horizon, an alliance was inevitable.

Sanghyuk’s breath hitched when Taekwoon dipped his head back, and licked the puncture wound on his wrist with the tip of his tongue before he looked up at Sanghyuk with an unreadable expression on his face— Wonshik’s gut twisted with something unknown as he watched the other two vampires look at each other.

They hated each other.

False.

Not anymore.

 

Second Statement: They would never leave each other’s side, even on the brink of leaving their known world behind for the unknown.

True.

The world in which they were born was dying and it needed pioneers— volunteers of the greatest sacrifice. Fate brought Taekwoon, Wonshik and Sanghyuk together when, out of four million eligible neural systems, only the three of them turned out to be compatible with the Mothership’s hyper-core.

They were to be connected to the starship’s interface and system through a shared neural link, because that was the only way to breathe the essence of life and the ability to nurture life into the Mothership in order for the human race to begin its long exodus to their new home, a distant promise of a faraway planet from their dying Earth.

“What if one of us dies during the syncing?” Sanghyuk muttered under his breath as he looked out the window of the armored vehicle they’d been cooped up in for days. They left the institution where they had been living for the better part of their life five days ago, with a military convoy escorting them through what was left of Europe.

En route to the Arabian Peninsula, they were attacked four times by different groups of people; rebels, mercenaries, personal militias, guerrillas, all seeking to possess them in exchange for water and gasoline.

On the fifth day, they finally reached the outer rim of the dry metropolis built around the launch site in the northern region of the Rub’ al Khali desert.

Generations lived there, people working to build the lower part of the Mothership that towered beyond everything in the desert— even from afar Sanghyuk could spot the top of the artificial monster peeking over the far horizon.

“None of us will die,” Wonshik assured him. “We’ve synced with the Mothership successfully in the simulation every time. It won’t be any different.”

Sanghyuk grimaced. “I won’t be able to do it if I lose any of you,” he whispered, resting his forehead against the reinforced glass. There was a crack in it, made by the bullet of an anti-tank rifle that had flipped their car over instead of breaking it. Wonshik’s wrist was wrapped in bandages as he’d fallen on it when they were attacked.

“The core needs all three of us,” Taekwoon interjected, sounding almost as if he was annoyed by Sanghyuk’s uncertainty— it was only exhaustion, though. He looked too pale, cheeks sun-burnt red, and his skin was clammy as he panted weakly in the coolest corner of the vehicle. He wasn’t taking too well to the desert climate. None of them were. “It won’t work without one of us— everything will be lost.”

“They would find another way off this rock, with or without the hyper-core,” Wonshik said.

“Then—” Sanghyuk started quietly, glancing at Wonshik, and then Taekwoon, “will our sacrifice still be meaningful?”

None of them knew the answer and it took them to the edge. The not-knowing was slowly beginning to drive them crazy.  

They had shared their lives, thoughts, emotions for long years as they lived together, but having their brains connected to each other, feeling as if they were one entity with three different bodies was something completely new and beyond their wildest dreams.

They felt everything through each other, three-fold— the pain, the joy, the distress, the hope, they shared every single thought and feeling between each other as they connected with one half of the Mothership’s system.

They became one with the ship, and Sanghyuk – along with Wonshik and Taekwoon – swore he could feel through the walls and hallways of the structure, could feel the crew members doing their job, as if they were a home with hundreds of people within their womb.

Before, whenever they failed to share something, they always resorted to physical contact and intimacy, the closest humans could get to each other, and the memories of kisses and sex were burned so deep into their bones and muscles that not even the neural link was enough to handle the intensity.

The night before the launch to the ISS in order to link the Mothership’s lower part with its upper part that had been built in space, the three of them yielded to the call of a primordial instinct that technology couldn’t erase.

They lay on a blanket on the grated floor of the bridge where their neural seats were waiting for them to serve as their eternal tomb, pliant against each other as sweat on their skin mixed with their white orgasm, a high that the Mothership would never understand. Wonshik’s lip behind the shell of Sanghyuk’s ear was fire hot as Taekwoon nuzzled into the crook of his neck, a leg thrown over the other two, a small, but loud action.

This moment was the closest they’d even been to each other, minds and bodies stuck together, before the possibility of being torn away.

They would never allow the unknown universe to separate them, no matter what.

True.

 

Third Statement: All of their wounds would heal with time.

False.

There was a time when the three of them thought they were invincible together— that nothing could hurt them that time wouldn’t have been able to take care of. Every bruise, injury healed, every pain disappeared.

But death was above time.

 

“You haven’t been here yet, am I right?” Wonshik asked softly as Sanghyuk pushed his wheelchair up the steep driveway. The forest around them was alive, vibrant green, and glowing yellow with the sunshine, beams filtering through the loose foliage here and there. Sanghyuk crossed a sunray, its warmth caressing Wonshik’s tired skin for a moment before they passed it.

“Not as far as I remember,” Sanghyuk said.

Wonshik wondered how he was going to break it to Taekwoon that Sanghyuk’s new memory chip was rejected. Again. He was not compatible with the new technology anymore— Sanghyuk was old, just as old as Wonshik and Taekwoon, even though the same couldn’t be said about the exterior.

“Taekwoon and I, we built it together—” _with you_ _doing all the heavy work_ , Wonshik added in his head. “To be close to nature on our last days.”

They reached the top of the small clearing, with a sleek house built on a cliff, embraced by tall trees. A meek waterfall grumbled somewhere nearby, peeking out below the house and the rock it was partially built on. The large glass walls of the building reflected the forest.

Sanghyuk stopped at the entrance to open the door with his fingerprint. He looked at Wonshik hesitatingly. “Why don’t you just—” he gestured.

“Just?” Wonshik asked, already knowing what Sanghyuk was implying. They’d have the same conversation over and over again, Sanghyuk’s curiosity walking the same path over and over again.

“Just get new legs? Wouldn’t it be better to be able to walk around?” Sanghyuk asked quietly, with the innocence of a child. He acted like one, despite the appearance of a young adult— his eternal form, immortalized by Wonshik and Taekwoon.

“Sanghyuk-ah,” Wonshik sighed and peeled his hands off the armrest of the wheelchair to reach out for Sanghyuk. “I’m too old. I’ve walked enough in my life.”

A hundred and fifty years, extended four times. Taekwoon was only two years older, though he needed life-extensions twice as many times.

Sanghyuk only needed it once.

“Bring me inside, will you?”

Wonshik loved it when Sanghyuk carried him around in his strong arms, even despite the fact that it reminded Wonshik of how— weak his body was. He’d been strong too, once upon a time, but it’d been so long, he could barely remember those days. It felt as if he had always been this old.

At night, when they lay in bed, with the roof over their head open to the night sky the trees didn’t cover, and Sanghyuk pretended to be asleep between them, Taekwoon burst into tears.

“It’s all our fault,” he choked out quietly, his voice sounding ancient as he wiped his tears off Sanghyuk’s forehead. “We were too selfish to let him go…”

“Do you think we should have let him stay dead?” Wonshik whispered. His elbow could barely hold his head anymore, so he stared at Sanghyuk’s peaceful face. Taekwoon let out small whimpers as he tried to hold back his cries.

They had thought that, maybe, just maybe, time would help them overcome the pain of losing Sanghyuk, but even after a hundred years his death was like a fresh wound in Taekwoon’s and Wonshik’s memories. Every day they spent in the company of guilt as a body of synthetic flesh and metal walked around them with Sanghyuk’s features and a system first of its kind uploaded full with Sanghyuk’s memories and personality.

There were things that would never get better with time.

True.

Sanghyuk was an eternal reminder until the last moment.

 

Fourth, and last Statement: They never lived multiple lives— the first ever time they met was when they joined the same company under the same dream of pursuing music.

True.

They didn’t live before they were born— they were never vampires of opposing clans, never the key to humanity’s escape, never the victim of hope. They didn’t believe in reincarnation and past lives. They believed in what they had, in the past that crusted into layers on their skins as experience and memories, in the present, and in the future of a kingdom come.

Yet they shared these dreams on nights when they felt closer to each other than others, when the only support they had were each other – and Hongbin and Jaehwan and Hakyeon – when the six of them felt to be the perfect embodiment of the closest bond ever possible between humans.

Taekwoon and Sanghyuk and Wonshik were even closer on those nights, in those dreams of a love budding from the mud of hate, in those dreams of disintegrating uncertainty and unknown weaving the new threads of attachment, in those dreams of hope and regret becoming one another.

It freaked them out and tore them apart, but at the same time, it stitched them together into one piece of fabric.

“Stop showing up in my dreams,” Wonshik whined as he was roused awake by Sanghyuk, his golden hair resembling a bird’s nest, and three in the morning pulling at the dark circles under his eyes, the stubble above his lips and on his chin darker than the furthest corner.

“I was a planet,” Sanghyuk whispered. His shirt was askew, one of his shoulders exposed. Wonshik saw under his shirt.

“And I was your moon,” Wonshik continued, and wordlessly they both tip-toed their way to Taekwoon’s room as if they were cats treading on eggshells, and Taekwoon was waiting for them as he sat on his mattress, arms open, because in that galaxy, he was their Sun, and they orbited around each other.

They never lived multiple lives.

True.

They had one life and many dreams that kept bringing them together.

**Author's Note:**

> inspirations for the fic include Cloud Atlas, and Homeworld.


End file.
